Ceremony
by isawrightless
Summary: his kisses are candy-like and it's okay because she tastes like honey and he takes his time, he always does, he hates letting her go.
1. Ceremony

She stares at the little plastic stick in her hands for exactly five seconds before she lets reality sink in, and when it does, she brings a hand to her chest in a vain attempt to calm her own heart. The chill that runs down her spine is enough for her to drop the stick on the floor and then curse herself for doing so. She knows the noise is not loud enough to wake anyone up, but her mind is filled with so many thoughts that paranoia is kicking in. Maybe he already knows, she thinks, aware of how absurd that sounds.

She sighs.

The knot in her stomach and the trembling of her hands aren't helping things at all. The last time she felt like this was four years ago when she leaned against his shoulder and asked for a moment because their lives were about to change in a few hours. When she takes a look at herself in the bathroom mirror, little plastic stick still in her hands, she smiles. It's a small, nervous one, but she smiles and closes her eyes because exactly like that night four years ago, this moment will never come again, at least not like this—raw and unpolished and warm, a secret only she knows.

When she's finally ready to go back to the bedroom she takes one final look at the object in her hands before wrapping it in toilet paper and throwing it in the trash can. She washes her hands and opens the bathroom door slowly, turning the lights off before stepping back into the bedroom. Cloud hasn't moved, but the minute she gets back under the covers he pulls her closer, her head against his chest as he wraps his arms around her body.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice low and rough from sleep.

She considers telling him right there, she really does, except she doesn't know how. Something is holding her back and there's so much going on, the joy she's feeling coupled with this little something—this little something that keeps hammering in her head, refusing to let her breathe properly. She wonders if this is what he felt when he left that time, this fear of losing something so great is big enough to render someone numb. Her fingers twist the fabric of his t-shirt at the thought, and he holds her tighter. It's never easy to think about that time, but picturing him all alone and scared and unsure of what to do, on the brink of death, brings out that ache in her, the one that never lets her forget, the one they've earned and learned through bleeding.

"Yeah, it's just too cold," she says, adjusts herself so their legs are intertwined under the covers. Cloud kisses her forehead, sweet and slow, his left hand running up and down her back and she sinks into him, ready to melt, safe from the entire world. He says somethng else, mentions how early it is -5:00 AM- and she nods, drifts off to sleep with his voice soothing that unamed something in the back of her mind.

She wakes up around 7:30 AM, groggy and with a dull ache on the left side of her head. There's no one else in the bedroom, so she takes a big sip of water from the bottle on the night stand and considers spending the entire day hidden under the covers. The wheater hasn't improved much since five in the morning, but as she sits on the edge of the bed, head down to stare at her own feet, she moves her right hand to her stomach and closes her eyes.

Taking a deep breath she gets up, stretches her arms and feels the chilly air on her skin. She heads to the bathroom, brushes her teeth and then goes back to the bedroom to pick something to wear, chooses black jeans, a white top and sneakers and when she closes the wardrobe, right on top of the wooden chair next to it, she sees Cloud's black hoodie—the one he wears when he's at home (and the one she loves to steal the most) neatly placed there.

Tifa bends over to pick it up, her fingers on soft cotton, and she can't help but feel like a 15 year old again—reading the newspapers and feeling her heart skip a beat every time she thought she'd seen his name written on dark ink.

She knows he left the hoodie for her as it's not the first time he's done this, but right now it seems like a new, important thing because truth be told, she was scared as hell minutes ago that maybe everything had been a dream, maybe all that sneaking around to take a pregnancy test hadn't happened and maybe she hadn't told him how cold it was (maybe just maybe) but this piece of clothing sends a jolt right through her system _it's real it's real it's real it's real_ and she allows herself to smile, proud and grounded, that unamed something, that hammering thing still present but soft as a whisper and she drowns in his scent when she puts the hoodie on.

Once dressed she makes her way to the children's bedroom, opens the door slowly and finds them both sound asleep, Marlene tucked in under the blankets, curled into a ball like a cat, and Denzel, lying on the bed like a little starfish, snoring loudly.

The room is still dark except for the rays of sunshine sneaking through the cracks on the closed windows, giving their bedroom shades of dark purple and yellow, turning everything into a safe, hiding spot and Tifa feels warmth running through her veins because Denzel isn't writhing in pain and Marlene isn't frightned and there's no one out there to harm them anymore and they're still tiny enough for her to carry them around, tiny enough to shield them from monsters.

Downstairs, she finds Cloud in the kitchen leaning against the counter with a map in his hands. It's an old habit of his: checking the best routes to take before a job even though he already knows them by heart. She remembers when he taught the kids exactly that, when he sat them down and explained that the safest paths are the ones that take you back home no matter what direction you turn, and then he proceeded to explain what to do in case technology failed, how he told them to always trust the stars.

"Hey," she calls out for him.

When he sees her and notices what she's wearing, he smiles and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks go red. This won't ever go away, she thinks, the sweetness of the smile he reserves just for her and the kids and how it makes her blush even after everything they've been through.

She takes a few steps closer to him, but he's the one who approaches her first.

"Hey," he says, leaning in to give her a quick kiss, his right hand on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her dark hair. His kisses are candy-like and it's okay because she tastes like honey and he takes his time, he always does, he hates letting her go.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks when they break apart.

 _Tell him now_ , she thinks.

"Yeah," she says instead. "Delivery?" she points to the map in his hands, happy to change the subject.

"Uh? Oh, no, this is the map I traced with the kids a couple of nights ago. Here, see these red lines?" he says, showing Tifa the map. She nods. "This is where Denzel thinks bridges should be built."

"Clever," she says, smiling. "What's this?" she points to the upper corner of the paper.

"That's a chocobo. Marlene's version of one, at least" the amusement in his voice makes Tifa chuckle.

"Is that a bunny?"

"Marlene didn't want the chocobo to feel lonely."

"Well, that's thoughtful."

"Isn't it?"

She laughs.

"I do have one deliver this morning, though," she notices the small change in his tone. "Gotta take some batteries and scraps to the shop owner in Kalm."

"When do you have to leave?"

"8:30. I think I can make it back in time to take the kids to school."

"You know they're gonna love that," Tifa says, turning around and grabbing a clean glass from the cupboard, stealing a glance at the wall clock. It's 8:15 AM. She opens the fridge, finds apple juice and pours some for herself, feeling Cloud's eyes on her the entire time.

The drink does little to calm her down.

"Is everything all right?"

A chill runs down her spine when she meets his gaze again. His blue eyes, glowing and worrying, staring at her so intently, making her lose her nerve.

"Why?" she hates herself the minute the question comes out of her mouth.

"Because I know you."

She bites her bottom lip, avoids his eyes, her hands are cold. There's a secret garden inside her chest in which flowers grow from inside out, making her heart beat as fast as it's beating right now.

"I need to tell you something," she starts, and he keeps quiet, waits for her.

He's frowning, she knows he's thinking the worst and she wants to kick herself in the face for behaving like this, but this fear that's coming from somewhere, maybe her past, still leans on her shoulder, the extra weight from hidden traumas hurting her bones. "It's nothing bad, well, at least I don't think it's bad, but I found out that–"

She's interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, high pitched and strong and echoing through the entire kitchen. It startles them both, and Cloud looks down, searches for the object in his back pocket, checks the number and sure enough, it's the shop owner. 8:20 AM and the man is probably calling to know if everything is set for today. Too bad Cloud doesn't answer.

"Cloud–"

"It can wait," he says.

"You're gonna be late."

"Tifa…"

She takes a deep breath, the words on the tip of her tongue but that ringing starts again.

"Damn it," he curses, and when he's about to turn the phone off, Tifa places a hand on his arm, smiling at him.

"It's okay. I mean it. I swear nothing bad it's happening, it's just…I don't want to tell you this in a rush, you know?" the ringing dies out once again, and Cloud stares at her for a moment, both of them silent as he searches reassurance in her eyes.

"Fine," he says. It comes down to trust in the end, so he grabs his keys and gives her a kiss.

"Be careful out there," she pleads and he nods, there's so much he wants to say and she can tell by the way he moves as he heads to the door.

Those flowers inside her rattle as she hears Fenrir's engine roaring outside, taking him to another place.

It all seems so silly.

It's a good fear, the one she's feeling, like when he kissed her for the first time and she could feel him trembling, or when they attended their first parent-teacher meeting and Barret, who had managed to come back to Edge just in time for that, explained to them what to expect and how to behave before meeting Marlene's teacher. When it was their turn and they met Denzel's teacher and they were told how smart he was, they both looked at each other, feeling proud, knowing that they had a hand in it, at least to some extent. It's the that comes once you start building a life, a future, it's scary and exciting at the same time.

She walks into the living room with a sigh, both hands on her head, fingers buried in her hair as she tries to think of something to do to distract herself. There's an entire speech burned into her brain, ready to be put to use once he comes home. She knows what she wants to say, how she wants to approach the subject. No beating around the bush, just going straight to the point and that's it.

They've never talked about this, not really. There was a scare some months ago when she was two weeks late without any other alarming signs that it could be anything else so she passed it off as stress. The thought crossed their minds, of course, but her period came on the same day she asked him to pick up a pregnancy test just to be sure. When she informed him of this he tried his best to keep his cool but his eyes gave him away. She could see the hint of sadness in them the same she knew he could see it in hers.

Her thoughts are cut short and she's brought out of her haze when she hears that familiar engine again. She frowns, wondering if something's wrong and moving quickly to go outside, but she barely has time to reach the door as Cloud comes back inside and stands there, looking at her.

"Did something happen?" she asks, delicate voice hiding concern.

He looks down, scratches the back of his head, then turns to meet her gaze. "I was thinking about earlier," he says, unaware that she can hardly breathe.

"About how you need to tell me something and it's nothing bad."

 _He knows._

Her heart beats to the rythm of these words.

 _He knows. He knows.  
_

"I know I may be _very_ wrong here, but Tifa…" the change in his voice is tender like summer nights and rosy skies, he says her name like a daydream, all soft and in love. "Are you…" he gestures to her belly, trying to find the courage to complete his sentence but she's already nodding her head.

"Really?" his voice breaks as the surprise on his face gives space to a smile and he moves closer to where she's standing, takes her hands in his.

"Really," she says.

He pulls her into a hug, her face buried on his chest as she stains his shirt with tears and he holds her so tight she wants to stay there forever, his arms wrapped around her body as if his intentions are the same, as if he wants to keep this moment frozen in time.

She doesn't know he's thinking about promises under starry nights, boyish dreams of being strong enough to protect her, to build a life with her, and she certainly has no idea he's thinking about the wishes he made when the clock turned 11:11 PM that night, how badly he asked for the universe to let her come and meet him at the well. No, she doesn't know he's thinking about that, but she feels him shaking and when he steps back to look at her, eyes a little red, he rests his forehead against hers.

"When did you find out?" he whispers.

"Today," she says and they want to drown in each other, run around like little children playing hide and seek in forbidden places, sharing secrets as if the world is all about them.

"Did you tell anyone else?"

"Just you," she says.

He hugs her again, a little lost in his own feelings, in this newfound happiness. Then he steals a kiss and she giggles in the middle of it and he's not scared, he's not scared at all, he's got his whole world right there in his arms and he knows they'll be just fine.


	2. Atlas

Moon siren, grants his wishes in the middle of the night, speaks in tongues and melts in his mouth.

Dissolves in him.

He can't breathe.

Moon siren when she's naked on top of him. _I love you_. The words scratch his throat, makes him choke, he wants to say them-if he does, will fate punish him? This is what happens, after all, poor little country boy, the worst is over but life is still life.

Her ruby eyes scanning him. _Mmmn?_ Yet he can't say he's done, he can measure this entire room with his body, he can carry the world on his shoulders, what is she then, his oceanid oceanid oceanid, she gets under his skin, swims into his veins, through the bones, she's his everything.

Conjure the past, let it burn

(it did)

and let it go.

"The kids will be up soon," her hazy, almost slurred speech makes him hold her to him. "Can't believe how long we've slept. The pregnancy makes me tired and sleepy _all the time_ and you're enabling me," she says with a smile, her eyes closed, head rested on his chest.

He chuckles.

See the future, let it come

(clear lines)

"I love you," he says, and it's quiet. "Tifa?"

He looks down at her, she's fallen asleep again and he grins. It's fine. He can say those words again.


	3. Oceanid

"I'm fine," forced conviction in her voice while he carries her to their bed, her head on his chest for a moment, eyes closed and brows furrowed. "It's nothing."

He lets her down on the mattress gently, her back against the headboard, head heavy and tilted to the side, her hands on her lap. He sits in front of her, reaches out to caress her cheek, she looks at him, he brushes the hair out of her face and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You know, that'd be a lot more convincing if I hadn't just picked you up from the bathroom floor."

She winces at that, shakes her head. "I thought I was going to be sick."

"And then you decided to stay on the floor?"

"Felt like a good thing to do," she chuckles.

"Tifa..."

His other hand is running up and down her leg in a soothing manner, his eyes glowing blue with concern. She takes his hand in hers, gives it a squeeze, and he notices, once again, how small her hand is compared to his. "Cloud, it's just morning sickness. I'm fine."

"I know, it's just..." he doesn't want to tell her how worried he is about the fact that she can't keep food down, that she's tired and pale most days now, and that it cuts him to the bone seeing her like this. He doesn't want to tell her how worried he is because it's not her fault and he needs to believe that what he's been reading in the pregnancy books he's bought is right, that all of her symptoms are normal and there's nothing bad going on.

Because bad things have aquired a taste for him and they lurk at every corner; he can sense it there, hovering, waiting, ready to strike and catch him by surprise and take them away from him, the family he's fought so hard to have, fought so hard to keep and over the past four years he's been learning and relearning how to keep the anxiety down, the damn feeling that has been infused within his bloodstream since he was little, exacerbated by all the tragedy that came later, the feeling that now flares up at the first sign of distress and turns morning sickness into something else, forces him to ground himself and hold on to the little things like the smell of vanilla on her skin, the dark of her messy hair, the knowledge she's alive and in front of him, his Tifa, all his and he has loved her for so long, wanted this for so long that it's hard not to be scared of anything that can possibily harm them.

He finds himself placing his free hand on her stomach, staring and contemplating in the way parents often do. He looks up at her to see a smile on her face, an orange glow from the lamp on the nightstand all over her, giving her dark brown eyes that gleam he adores so much.

"If something doesn't feel right let me know, okay?" he asks, finally pulling her into his embrace, arms wrapped around her, his need to shelter her from the world apparent. She nods, sighs contently as he rests his chin on the top of her head. They remain quiet for a while and he's almost certain she's fallen asleep when her voice proves him wrong:

"We're almost through the first trimester," she yawns as he strokes her hair. "Then we can tell everybody."

It sounds like superstition but it's love and care for the children. They know how the kids will react once they learn about the pregnancy, they can hear the cheers and the hugs and the guesses about the baby's gender, the name suggestions, the how are babies made talk. Both adults know the joy it will bring just like they know how much can happen in the first months of pregnancy and the last thing they want is to crush the children's hearts with tragedy. The same can be said about their friends and so they wait, hoping for the best, preparing for any unexpected blows.

Sometimes he thinks it's funny how parenthood sort of happened to them. Marlene instilled in them a different type of responsibility, and when Denzel came along, that responsibility only grew. It's the kind that means putting the children's innocence and comfort above everything else. Paying bills, working extra hours, saving money-it's all for them, so that they can have whatever they want and never go hungry or feel like there's anything missing. It's the reason Cloud doesn't complain about spending hours on the road under the burning sun and the reason why Tifa doesn't utter a single word about the pain in her legs and her headaches from working at the bar every day.

The reward is watching Denzel running around, healed, making Marlene laugh until her belly hurts, sneaking out of their beds at 3:00 am to watch TV in the living room on mute thinking that he and Tifa are sleeping, completely unaware of it.

It's all worth it.

There's always a bit of doubt here and there. They do wonder if they're not seeing something or being too overprotective, but they're always sure that they can do this. Even if sometimes they don't know how, _they can do this_. It's been his secret dream ever since he fell in love with Tifa, all those years ago, ever since he made that promise and imagined their future together, sealing their fate at that well.

It's probably why safety and warmth spread through his veins when he found out about the pregnancy, probably why he can't wait for what's to come.

"The next appointment is Friday, isn't it?" he asks her. "Or is it Saturday?"

"Friday," her drowsy, sleepy voice makes him chuckle. "We'll probably get to hear the baby's heartbeat."

He smiles, plants a soft kiss at the top of her head and makes a mental note to cancel the deliveries he has that day. He hasn't missed a single appointment so far and he doesn't plan on breaking the chain now.

.


End file.
